A World So Small: Epilogue

[wordslinging]

III.

Epilogue

The trip to the Continent was Michael's idea, one he discussed at length with Frank on walks in the garden before they approached Gerard with it. It was where Frank's doctor had wanted him to go from the beginning, and it would be a much-needed change of scenery for the Way brothers, a means to shake off the way they'd been living since Helena's death and try to begin anew.

The problem, of course, was convincing Gerard. With Michael and Frank's combined encouragement, he had continued to make progress in the month since Frank's fever, descending from the attic more and more often. He was still flighty and anxious when it came to interacting with anyone other than the two of them, but he had reached a point where he could take his meals with them, sit with them in the parlor or walk with them on the grounds, and not feel so dreadfully uncomfortable as he once would have.

The Continent would be a different matter entirely; it would be strangers, and crowds, and places where nothing was familiar or safe, and, as expected, Gerard was deeply uncertain when they first discussed it with him. Michael sat with him and held his hand, and Frank hovered nearby, ready to comfort one brother or lend his support to the other, whatever was needed.

"No one will know you there," Michael explained. "It won't be like the people from Thornton, or the servants who used to gossip about you--you'll just be a gentleman traveling abroad, nothing more and nothing less."

"And all the things people think you strange for here may not be at all remarkable on the Continent, anyway," Frank chimed in, hoping it would be helpful. "If what I've heard is at all accurate, it seems as though they encourage strangeness there."

Gerard's mouth quirked up in a smile at that, but he still looked doubtful. "That may be. But--I don't know if I'm ready for something like this."

"You'll be with both of us the entire time," Michael reminded him. "You needn't speak to anyone you don't want to, and we won't stay anywhere if you decide you want to leave." He leaned forward a little, looking his brother straight in the eye, and added, "I wouldn't ask you to do this if I didn't think you could, Gerard."

Gerard wasn't won over yet, but those words clearly left an impression. They agreed to put the matter aside for now, and discuss it again in a few days.

After supper that evening, Frank retired to his room, and had just begun a letter to his parents when he was interrupted by a knock on the door.

"I'm not disturbing you, am I?" Gerard asked when Frank opened the door.

"Never," Frank replied, taking his hand to draw him into the room and closing the door behind him.

At first, they had continued to meet in the attic, but as the weather grew chillier, they found themselves in Frank's room more and more often. It was far more snug and pleasant than the drafty attic, and, faced with the question of Frank's comfort, Gerard had grown bolder about leaving his sanctuary.

He stood in Frank's room now and simply looked at him for a moment, then moved forward to cup Frank's face in his hands and kiss him. Frank leaned into it eagerly, mouth falling open under Gerard's, hands sliding from Gerard's chest to his shoulders.

Gerard had grown bolder with this, too, as he learned Frank's body, learned just how and where to touch him. He eased Frank down onto the bed and knelt above him, pushing Frank's shirt up, but when Frank raised his hands to help, Gerard caught them and pressed them gently back down.

He liked this, liked to focus all his attention on Frank while not letting Frank do anything for him, to stay composed and in control while he watched Frank fall apart under his hands. Frank twisted his fingers in the bedclothes and tipped his head back as Gerard's hands roamed over his skin, biting his lip to hold back a moan that might carry down the hall. He was writhing beneath Gerard by the time Gerard's hand finally slid into his open trousers, too far gone to last long, but he managed to stay nearly silent as he spilled into Gerard's fingers, only a ragged, broken gasp escaping.

He lay there panting for a moment, sinking back into himself, and then tackled Gerard onto the mattress, making short work of the fastenings on his trousers. He was rougher and faster than Gerard had been with him, but Gerard didn't seem to mind in the slightest, bucking up into Frank's touch and crying out softly when he reached his climax.

They lay together afterward, curled up in each other's arms, and after a while, Gerard spoke.

"Do you think Michael's right?"

Frank glanced up from where his head was tucked against Gerard's chest. "I think...I think it's like going outside that first time was. You make things harder and more frightening than they need to be by worrying about them."

Gerard craned his neck to look down at Frank, his expression dubious. "Going abroad isn't like going outside, Frank."

"I know," Frank said. "But you're thinking about it the same way, focusing on all the bad things that might happen. Think about all the places we could go, instead, all the things we could see and do together. There's so much out there in the world--don't you want to see it?"

"Yes," Gerard admitted, a bit wistfully. "I'm just...afraid." He pressed his face into Frank's hair, whispering, "I'm sorry, I wish I were braver. I'm trying to be, for you."

"You don't need to do it for me," Frank insisted, and when Gerard made a noncommittal sound, Frank pushed himself up so he could look at him better. "Gerard, I fell in love with you the way you are, and nothing's going to change that. I want you to be braver because I think that would be better for you."

Gerard reached up to cup his face in one hand, Frank pushing into the touch eagerly. "I love you," he whispered, and pulled Frank down into a tight embrace, kissing his brow, his temple, the shell of his ear. "I want to be whatever you want me to be."

---

"He doesn't have any confidence in himself," Michael said the next afternoon. He and Frank had gone out riding, and were returning to the manor now, horses slowed to a walk so that they could speak. "He used to, but it's all worn down. And I helped it get that way."

He said it matter-of-factly, but his tone didn't need to be emotional for Frank to know how he felt.

"You did what you thought was best," he said. "Gerard knows that, and he loves you for it."

Michael gave a slight smile at that. "I know." He fell silent for a moment, then added, awkwardly, "Since we're on the subject of love..."

Frank looked down, fighting the urge to laugh even as he flushed crimson. Michael had had very little to say about the particulars of his and Gerard's relationship so far, but Frank had suspected he might have to face some sort of brotherly lecture eventually.

"It's become clear to me that I'm not as well qualified to be my brother's keeper as I might have hoped," Michael went on. "And I can see how much you care for him, I know you would never hurt him intentionally. But...well, you know how he is. Just be careful with him."

Frank nodded. "I will," he said sincerely, adding, with a smile, "I expect you'll make me sorry for it if I don't."

"Immensely sorry," Michael promised.

They found Gerard in the library when they returned to the house, sitting cross-legged on the thick rug in front of the fireplace, elbows on his knees, chin in his hands. He looked up as Frank and Michael entered, and then spoke.

"If we did go abroad...could we visit the Louvre? Or the Sistine Chapel, if we went to Rome?"

Frank darted a look of happy surprise at Michael, who merely regarded his brother for a moment, and then smiled. "Do you really think I'd go all the way to the Continent and then not want to visit the Louvre or the Sistine Chapel?"

Gerard returned the smile, then glanced back toward the fire, his expression thoughtful. "I've always thought it would be nice. To see all the artwork in those places for myself, rather than just reading about them."

Michael crossed the room and lowered himself down beside Gerard, long limbs sprawling out awkwardly, and then cast an expectant look at Frank, who needed no further urging to join them, tucking himself against Gerard's side. "Then that's what we'll do."

---

Another time, Frank determined, he was going to get Gerard in London long enough for him to actually see some of the city. It seemed strange that Gerard should be about to tour the Continent when he had seen so little of his own country, but there had been no time for leisure or sightseeing when they had passed through London last night, and now their carriage was speeding towards Portsmouth, where they would board the ship that would take them across the Channel to France.

Aside from the fact that it had been the natural place to break their journey, their main purpose in stopping in London was for Frank to say goodbye to his parents.

He had told them about Gerard in a letter, giving an account of things that he hoped would prepare them for meeting Gerard and explain why they had never heard of him before, but not leave them too alarmed at the idea of an eccentric attic recluse spying on their son and spending the night in their home. They had been curious, and eager to meet him, not least because he would be one of the traveling companions on Frank's first journey abroad.

Gerard had been nervous, of course; they were strangers, they were Frank's parents, and all the things he shouldn't say or do were doubtless weighing on him when they dined together. But he handled himself remarkably well, remaining pale but composed throughout the meal, and seeming perhaps a bit strange, but not alarming, or alarmed. Spending the night in the Ieros' house put more of a strain on him--he had never slept anywhere that was not the manor, never left the manor for any reason and not returned there before the end of the day. Michael sat up with him in the guest room, and the next morning Frank could tell instantly that neither of them had slept much.

Gerard spent most of the ride to Portsmouth dozing against Frank's shoulder, and Frank let him sleep as long as he could, only shaking him awake when they arrived at the harbor. Michael had climbed out of the carriage first, to see to the transfer of their luggage to the ship, and for a few moments, they were alone.

Gerard was pale and uncertain as he glanced out the carriage window, looking at the ship that was to be their passage to the Continent. It was bound on a voyage around the coasts of France and Spain and into the Mediterranean, and their plan was to cross the Channel in it, disembark and go to Paris first, then travel overland to meet the same ship again in Barcelona and sail on to Italy.

"I suppose it's too late to turn back now, isn't it?" Gerard said softly.

"Of course it isn't," Frank replied. He knew that at a word from Gerard, Michael would order their luggage back onto the carriage roof, tell the driver to turn around, take them straight back to the manor. "But do you really want to?"

Gerard let out a nervous laugh. "If you want the truth, yes." He looked out at the ship again, lips pressed together thoughtfully. "But I've come this far."

"You have," Frank agreed proudly. He reached for Gerard's hand and held it tightly, but said nothing further, waiting for Gerard to make up his mind.

Michael was waiting for them when they stepped out of the carriage, and the three of them proceeded toward the dock together. Frank reluctantly let go of Gerard's hand, substituting a light touch at his elbow, as if to guide him.

There were two men in naval dress waiting for them on the dock. One was taller even than Michael, with a great mass of curly hair that looked as though it were only a moment away from escaping from the queue he had pulled it back into. The other was shorter and stockier, with a scruff of blond beard and piercing blue eyes. As the three travelers approached, the long-haired one glanced at them as if trying to decide which to address--and chose Gerard.

"Lord Way?"

Gerard paused, startled, and glanced over at Michael, who opened his mouth as if to speak, but then paused and looked back at Gerard, raising his eyebrows slightly as if to say it was up to him. Gerard hesitated a moment longer, and then turned back to the man who had addressed him.

"Yes," he said, his voice low, but not so quiet that he couldn't be understood. "Yes, I'm Lord Way."

The long-haired man gave a slight bow, and held out a hand. "Captain Toro, at your service, and this is my first officer, Lieutenant Bryar." He gestured to the blond man, who bowed as well.

Gerard took his hand, smiling a little, seeming to find it easy enough to continue now that he had begun. "I'm very pleased to meet you. This is my brother, and--" he paused again, glancing over at Frank as if wondering how to introduce him. "And our particular friend, Mister Iero."

Toro gave both Michael and Frank the same brisk bow, and Frank found himself momentarily fascinated by the way his hair moved every time he turned his head. He was, he thought, not entirely unsure that Toro hadn't fastened some sort of living creature to his scalp.

"It's an honor to have you all aboard," the captain was saying, ignoring Frank's fixation on his hair. "If you'll follow me, I'll show you to your quarters."

Michael stepped forward to follow him at once, but Gerard lingered, casting one more glance over his shoulder. Frank stayed with him, touching his arm again gently, and Gerard turned to look at him, smiling and briefly covering Frank's fingers with his own. They stood that way another moment, and then turned to follow Michael, proceeding onto the ship together.